


wind up on your own floor, choking on blood

by binkbonk



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, I love her, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Season/Series 06, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Suicidal Thoughts, Vomiting, be careful folks, because im still coping, but want to tag just to make sure ppl know, keiths wolf is somewhere but not in this fic lmao, krolia is a great mom, like lowkey, like really bad panic attack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 16:13:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15392529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/binkbonk/pseuds/binkbonk
Summary: shiro wakes up with memories that don’t belong to him as well as a sudden, overwhelming urge to puke his guts out





	wind up on your own floor, choking on blood

**Author's Note:**

> i looooooove using song lyrics for titles cant u tell

“try, try your whole life

to be righteous and be good

wind up on your own floor

choking on blood”

-Sept 15 1983 // The Mountain Goats

 

 

Krolia is exploring the black lion’s cabin when she hears retching in the bathroom. Keith’s outside, exploring the planet they landed on, and Shiro should be resting, so... Either there’s an intruder (her hackles raise at the thought), or the man just woke up and is... doing what, exactly?

She looks over to the makeshift bed that sits near the cockpit and finds it empty, blankets pushed roughly off; so that answers one question.

Creeping closer to the muffled noises, Krolia tries to remember if it’s normal for humans to regurgitate. Often Galras only do so if something’s VERY wrong with their bodies— you can imagine how freaked out she was when she held Keith as a baby and he “spit up” the first time. It took fifteen minutes of his father’s explanations and reassurance for her to believe that their child hadn’t, in fact, been poisoned—but maybe...? It’s just what humans... do?? She’d better check just in case.

She isn’t prepared for what’s behind the door.

As it slides away, she’s faced with Shiro’s hunched figure. Tension radiates off his muscled shoulders like heat waves from a vehicle. Knuckles grip the rim of the toilet so hard that they’re white. His head snaps around to look at her but... his eyes... they don’t look right. There’s way too much showing around the edges, like they’re blown wide with panic and he’s... “crying” (that’s the word humans use for it, right?)

Before the man can make an excuse, say he’s just “still getting used to this body” or something, Krolia stutters “I-I’ll go get Keith!” and runs off.

He curls his hand into a fist and halfheartedly bangs it against the rim, trying to piece himself back together because _fuck fuck shit fuck just BREATHE goddamnit why can’t you BREATHE_ doesn’t seem to be working.

 

_and I should’ve abandoned you, just like your parents did!_

 

Panic floods into him, forcing him to lose coherency at the memory, chest heaving and bile rising up his throat again.

“Shiro?”

Shit.

Sometimes in the arena, his opponents wouldn’t be able to see him if he stopped moving, like the dinosaurs in Jurassic Park. Shiro knows it won’t work in this situation, but he tries anyway, forcing his body to freeze while his brain screams _don’t see me don’t see me don’t see me don’t-_

A slender hand reaches to hold his fringe back from a clammy forehead, which is stupid because it’s not like his hair is even long enough to get covered in vomit but all the same, it’s a nice sentiment.

“Can you hear me?”

He nods.

There’s a pause. Heavy breathing fills it.

“What’s going on?”

Keith is being so gentle with him that it almost makes him laugh. This has to be a joke. It’s got to be a joke. There’s no way Keith would still love him after—

 

He remembers.

He remembers the acrid smell of burning flesh meeting his nose and _anger so much anger_ and _kill him kill him kill him kill kill_

 

Whatever semblance of stability he had before (which was next to nothing) is forced out of him as Shiro gets lost in his head again.

When he comes back around, Keith is still there, fingers carding through shock-white hair. There’s a cold rag being pressed to his face. He tries to focus on the feeling.

Shiro shudders and spits into the toilet.  He stares blankly at the mess in the bowl.

“Why didn’t you tell me.” (God, his voice is so dull, so void of feeling. It’s like speaking to an apparition.)

Keith stops moving his fingers. When he speaks, he sounds as if he’s trying to calm a wild animal (he may as well be). “I wanted to wait until you recovered. You were having trouble remembering lots of things so... I thought I’d have more time...”

Shiro actually does laugh at that. It’s an awful sound, all half-assed and too similar to a sob. Keith hates it.

“Why would— you even want more time? Why—why haven’t you just...”

Shiro’s memory may have gone to shit years ago, but he still recalls what became of dogs that attacked humans back on Earth; they were put down. That’s all he is, he realizes in a frenzy, just a dog that went rabid. A mangy, foaming-at-the-mouth mutt that’s become too much of a liability to be kept alive.

He wrenches himself from the toilet bowl, grips a sleeve of Keith’s jacket, looks into stunned violet eyes and rasps, “kill me.”

The younger man goes still.

“...Shiro”

“I can’t hurt you again, I’ve hurt so many people, Keith, I can’t—“ his voice cracks.

“It wasn’t you, Shiro.”

“It doesn’t matter!”

“Why the fuck doesn’t it matter?”

“You’re still HURT. He HURT you! The things he said—he—“ Shiro trails off, fending off another wave of nausea and panic.

Keith is silent for a moment, trying to formulate an adequate answer. His voice is quiet, subdued, when he states, “I hurt you, too, Shiro.”

The older man looks to what’s left of his right arm. Before he got the clone’s memory, he would notice Keith steeling glances at it, with something that looked like sadness flitting across his features. By the time Shiro asked him about it, the moment was gone, and Keith would just dance around the subject. Shit, he can’t actually feel guilty about that, right?

“It’s not like you had a choice, Keith.”

“And your clone did?”

“I—I don’t know, okay? It’s just all—It’s just...”

Shiro suddenly feels exhausted. This is all too much. Sorting through what memories are truly _his_ ; suffering from memories he never even _had_. It’s too fucking much.

This weariness must show on his face because Keith is softening his gaze and pulling him closer, guiding his head onto Keith’s shoulder.

After a few minutes, the younger man speaks against white hair.

“You still need rest, Shiro.”

Shiro nods, but doesn’t move.

“Can you walk yet?”

He lifts his hand from Keith’s chest for reference. It’s still trembling like a leaf, so he shakes his head.

“Hey, that’s okay. We can wait.”

 

—

 

Keith pulls the blankets further over them both and goes back to playing with Shiro’s hair.

The man on his chest gently rubs his hand over Keith’s ribs. It’s almost _too gentle_ for his liking; Keith isn’t some fragile baby bird and he knows that Shiro’s only acting like he is because of what happened, but he supposes they’ve dealt with enough today and keeps it to himself.

The black lion is purring in the back of Keith’s head, glad that their past paladin is being cared for. He smirks in response.

Shiro takes a deep breath.

“Keith, I—“

“Don’t.”

He’s heard Shiro apologize enough in the years they’ve been together, more often than not for no reason. This time it’s no different.

Before he can object, Keith follows up the statement.

“I already told you. It wasn’t you. Hell, it wasn’t even _him_ , really. He disliked violence as much as any other Shiro.”

He feels the other man huff a laugh below him, and fuck, Keith’s so glad he can still make him _laugh_. He tightens the hold he has on Shiro’s shoulders.

“I’m not letting you apologize for something that you had nothing to do with.”

Finally, _finally_ , Shiro stops trying to argue, and lets out a soft, “okay.”

They lay in relative quiet, listening to the soft hum of Black’s machinery around them.

“Keith?”

“Mm..?”

Shiro bunches up the fabric of Keith’s shirt in his hand as he lets out a breathy, “thank you.”

Keith leans down to kiss his head.

“Of course—as many times as it takes, remember?”

He can hear Shiro’s smile when he sleepily replies, “hmm...yeah..”

 

—

 

Shiro’s fast asleep, lulled by Keith’s breathing when Krolia hesitantly comes into the room.

“...Is he alright?” she asks, nodding to the man in Keith’s arms.

Keith looks down to him, brows furrowed.

“Not the best but... He’s better..”

Krolia makes a small noise in acknowledgment, then pins him with her piercing yellow eyes.

“Are _you_ alright?”

He can’t help but smile a little at her concern for him. Even after more than two years, he still isn’t used to her constant, unwavering support. It’s helped him so much more than he likes to admit.

“I’m feeling a little rough around the edges but... I’ll be okay.”

She nods, content with the answer.

After a while, she speaks again, words full of knowing;

“You take good care of him.”

Keith hums, and brushes Shiro’s bangs away from his closed eyes.

“I know he’d do the same for me.”

**Author's Note:**

> woooooooo another angsty sheith fic that ends in cuddles because i love these two and dont know what to do with myself after season six YIKE


End file.
